


Tricks and Treats

by the_jinxed_one



Series: Happy Ho-lidays [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Foreplay, George has control like no other, It's all foreplay, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masquerade, dummies in love, lots of foreplay, mild slow burn, sir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 03:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_jinxed_one/pseuds/the_jinxed_one
Summary: Alex had no intention of going to Washington's annual Halloween Masquerade. Unfortunately for him, his friends are eager to see what the fuss is all about. Alex has one plan: get in and get out without attracting the attention of George Washington. He didn't want to be caught crashing his boss's party. He should be so lucky...





	Tricks and Treats

“You want to what?”

“We want to go to Washington’s ball.”

Alex was cozied up with a beer while Laurens braided his hair. They had been watching an old, shitty movie in the living room, if you could call it that, of their shared apartment. Living with 3 people offered them a slightly larger space, but not by much. With Hercules still working as an apprentice, John spending most of his time at part time jobs to make room in his schedule for whatever cause he was supporting that week, and Lafayette’s indulgent spending... the flat they rented was as nice as they could afford. Still, despite the painfully thin walls and neighbors domestic disputes, it was home.

“Why?” he asked warily, taking a long drag from the bottle.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because it’s the party of the year? Because we can and you’re just being stingy.” Hercules said before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Alex, he did invite you.” John said behind him.

“Yeah but not really…”

There was a mutual look of disapproval and disbelief from all his mates. “Oh, I’m sorry. I remember you coming home from work with a scowl going on and on about how George freaking Washington invited you to his masquerade and how you couldn’t possibly accept.”

“Because it wasn’t a real invite! It was a pity invite. Like… when everyone is giving out valentines in school and you have to give one to everyone so no one feels left out, even if you don’t really want to. It was more like he couldn’t not invite me. I literally made the guest list and sent out the invites.” Alex explained with fervor.

“Alex, for the last time, rich people do not pity invite their assistants to their parties!” Hercules said before throwing a piece of popcorn at him.

“Mr. Washington isn’t like the assholes whose trousers you pin!” Alex said throwing the food back at him.

“Either way, we want to go. We never get to do anything fun because you always shoot it down.”

“Oh! So, now it’s my fault?”

Resounding yeahs rang around the room.

“Well, excuse the shit out of me for trying to respect my boss’ politeness.”  
“You’re excused.” Hercules said with a grin. “So… we’re going?”

“I’ll think about it.”

And he thought that would be the last of it. Days passed and no one had said anything about the party. Alex assumed that they had forgotten or given up. He went to work as usual, pretended he wasn’t potentially in love with his boss as usual, tried not to be a complete ass to his associates as usual, came home to bitch about work as usual. The world kept spinning. That was that. He was focused more on assisting Mr. Washington with party plans than anything as of late.

When he came home from a long day, ready to bend someone’s ear about the sheer amount of fuckery he had to deal with when it came to floral arrangements, he was surprised to find his roommates in the living room dressed like they had come out of Versailles. 

“What the fuck?”

“Alexandre! At last. We’ve been dying to see you in costume, ‘Ercules has outdone himself this time.”

“It may very well be my finest work yet.”

“What in the actual fuck is going on here?”

John popped out of the kitchen, sporting only a gold coat with massive buttons over a t-shirt and sweatpants. He was carrying a massive bowl of chips over to the other men. “I think it’s fairly obvious. Mulligan is nearly finished with our costumes for the party.”

“Yeah, no shit. Last time I checked, we hadn’t agreed on anything.”

“Well, if we left it up to you, we’d stay home until the end of time.” John said before popping a chip into his mouth with a shrug.

“This is…”

“Genius?” John offered.

“Magnificent?’ Lafayette said, admiring the pale pink, shining fabric he was swathed in.

“Splendid?” Hercules said around a mouthful of pins.

“Fucking stupid.” Alex said. He dropped his bags on the ground and made his way to the kitchen to grab a beer. He’d need it.  
When he came back and flopped on the couch, he actually took a moment to appreciate the work Hercules had done. Each garment was precise and beautiful. Each coat looked like it had come from a painting. The fabrics were exquisite and he had obviously taken to the task with delight. There was no shortage of poofage from sleeves or detail from cuffs. 

“When did you have time to do all this?” he asked dipping his hand into the chip bowl.

“Here and there,” Hercules says off handedly but he looks tired. “Where there is a will, there is a way. If you want to sneak into a party, you have to look like you belong there.”

“I still think this is a terrible idea.” he mumbled.

“See, the thing is, you think any idea you didn’t come up with is terrible.”

“Not true!”

Lafayette tisked at him. “Is true, my friend. That is your burden but we love you for it. And now, we give you a great idea and no escape route.” He gave a charming smile.

“I don’t have to sneak you in,” he tried.

“Like hell you don’t!” John and Hercules cried in unison.

“Fine. I’ll sneak you in.”

“Merveilleux!” Lafayette said as he clapped his hands together in front of himself.

“I’ll get you in but then I’m out of there.” He said with a smirk. It died on his lips when he saw the awkward glances between them. John was trying to stifle a laugh by shoving potatoes into his face. “What?”

“It would be such a shame if all of Hercules’ time went to waste. A true shame,” Gilbert shook his head.

“You didn’t… Herc… You made me one, didn’t you.”

Hercules smiled and it was radiant and proud. “It’s the best of the bunch!”

“God damn it!”

They were going to this party whether he liked it or not.

He went to work the next day filled with anxiety. He wanted to just tell George that it looks like he would be coming after all. It would take some of the tension out of his shoulders at least. Instead, he bit his cheek. He’d be damned if he’d go back on his word and make George feel the need to accommodate him and his hooligan friends. He was glaring at emails when George stopped by his desk.

“Alexander, are you alright?”

He looked up and softened slightly. God, he couldn’t even look at the man without mooning over him. George stood by his desk, bright navy suit unbuttoned, his paisley tie clipped neatly to his body. Alex offered a small smile. “Perfectly fine, sir.”

George’s brow furrowed. “Why don’t you take a break,” he offered.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do still.”

“It can wait. Join me for lunch.”

Alex looked back at his computer screen. It was late for lunch. Then again, when had either of them stopped working long enough to eat? He looked at his emails and deemed none of them so important that he could blow off lunch with his crush. His stomach decided it was time to make itself known. The grumble caused George to smile.

“I’ll get my coat,” George said before backtracking to his office.

Lunch was a splendid affair. George let Alex talk his ear off about office politics and some of the responses he had gotten to emails, about the plans for the holiday party and how he had never really thought about what went into it before now.

“It is quite the event.” George acknowledged. “You’re sure you won’t come?”

Alex faltered. Fuck. Okay, big opportunity here. It would be so easy to say “actually, after putting in all this work, I’d love to see it all come together.” Instead he shook his head. “No, I couldn’t.”

George seemed displeased but let it go. Alex was immensely grateful. His pride would likely come to be the end of him. But he’d rather bite his tongue and have deniability than admit that he was going. Because there was a part of him that wanted that invite to be real, the very same part that was looking for disappointment in Washington. He wanted to be wanted by this man. He wanted to have a place by his side beyond his employ. He wanted to be welcome in his home, in his life, without excuse. It was why he had caved.

When the night of the party arrived, he was riddled with anxiety. It overwhelmed any excitement he may be feeling. He watched as his friends dressed. Lafayette’s pink satin look had been completed with a similarly colored porcelain cat mask. His hair had been braided back, making him almost unidentifiable. Still, his height would aide in Alex’s ability to find him. That and the remarkably demure shade of pink he was draped in. Hercules had opted for a navy theme. His mask was split down the middle, half a deep shade of blue that matched his coat and the other half a brilliant gold. He had sewn an ornate gold brocade onto the massive cuffs of his sleeves to mirror the features of his mask. His shirt was definitely open at the collar, ruffles spilling to either side of his exposed chest. Laurens looked like a rococo golden globe statue. The gold coat Alex had seen earlier had been paired with a softer cream pant that definitely reflected hints of gold in the light. His ruffled collar was straining against the gold long vest he was tucked into. His mask was by far the simplest of them all; no ornate design, a simple brushed gold piece.

Alex admired them as Hercules fiddled with the details, pulling at ruffles and adjusting cuffs as needed. “This is extra… even for us,” he quipped.

“You can never be overdressed,” Hercules rebutted and they all laughed. When was the last time any of them, Lafayette excluded, had been over dressed?

“Alex. Stop staring and get dressed.” John said as he pulled the upper part of his hair up.

Heaving a sigh, he shuffled towards his bedroom. Laying on his bed in all its glory was his costume. His mask was a statement piece to say the least; it would cover most of his face -- for that he was grateful-- and likely make him look a fair bit taller as the red plumes that surrounded the top to create a fiery look stood rather proud. He wondered at the small beak, tipped with gold. He was grateful it would sit closer to his face than he expected. The small feathers that covered the majority of the mask softened what would otherwise be a bold enough piece to make him back out.

Under the mask lay a velvet coat. He ran his fingers over the scarlet fabric. It would be long, even for him. Along the lapel, Hercules had embroidered long gold phoenixes mirroring each other, the length of their fine tails flowing down the length of the jacket. Where his friends had massive folded cuffs, he had billowing sleeves with embroidery that nearly looked like flames. He slipped into the under shirt, tugging at ruffled cuffs trimmed with gold lace. He was about to pull on his trousers when he eyed the white folded fabric next to them. He unfolded it and held it up.

“Oh, fuck you!” he bellowed!

“Put it on!” he heard from the living room followed by snickers.

He groaned and sat on the edge of his bed to pull on the stockings. The thin fabric felt unusual against his skin. These were undoubtedly women’s stockings. He flexed his feet and ignored the small thrill of the idea of someone knowing he was in fact wearing ladies stockings. He wasn’t alone. All his friends were wearing them. Still… it was rather illicit. He hoped into the pants and was grateful that he had room to breathe in them. They were much roomier than he anticipated. Though exposing his stocking clad calves gave him pause.

He pulled on the long vest on began a tiresome siege on all the buttons. His fingers danced over the gold and red brocade. Already he felt like he was ready for a party with King Louis. He didn’t know how they did anything with all these layers. He was already eager to get out of it. He was going to make Hercules undo his buttons when they returned just to torture the man.

He held the jacket up to the light and admired the way the light danced on the gold, the way the fabric seemed richer somehow. He shoved his arms into elaborate sleeves, silk lining aiding in his ease. The fabric of the front brushed him mid-shin while the back danced against his ankles. He wondered momentarily if Hercules had forgotten his measurements. His coat was infinitely more lengthy than the others.

He snatched the mask off the bed and padded out to the others. He received what felt like a sarcastic applause. John clapped Hercules on the shoulder while Lafayette circled Alex while nodding approvingly.

“Absolutely your finest work,” Gilbert said sweetly. “It is a masterpiece.”

“It’s definitely something else,” Alex said quietly. He received a flick to his ear from Lafayette.

“Do not be an ass,” he hissed.

Alex softened. “It really is amazing, Herc. I don’t know how you did all this.”

Hercules smiled and puffed up. “It’s called talent.”

“Modest much?” Alex said with a laugh.

“Have you seen the back? I have no reason to be modest.”

Alex had not seen the back. He hadn’t taken the time to look. They were already pressed for time as it was. He went over to the full length mirror Gilbert insisted they keep on the bathroom door. He turned and peered over his shoulder and understood immediately; a combination of gold embroidery and gems made it look very much like he had a tail and that his tail was on fire. Blended beautifully into the design were small feathers, painstakingly sewn to the fabric.

“Wow,” he said softly.

“Exactly. Pure fucking talent. Not mention my talent for fucking.”

Alex chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Can we go now?”

“Nearly.”

Lafayette came behind him to pull his beyond shaggy locks back with a red ribbon. Okay, he was in need of a trim very soon. It was perhaps a bit longer than he remembered. It did add a touch of authenticity to his look. Hercules came forward with what had to be the most extravagant jabot he had ever seen. The layers of ruffles were trimmed with the same gold lace as the cuffs of his undershirt but on top was another gold lace bow that was anchored to the rest by a gem encrusted flame pendant. 

He put the mask on and stared at his reflection. Well, people would certainly know what he was. He was vision of a rococo phoenix. The four of them were reflected in the mirror. They looked as though they had stepped through time. They were positively out of place in their home. The modern surrounding only made them look awkward. It was like some modern painting about stature and economics. Alex didn’t like it.

“We look outrageous.” He said finally.

“We look amazing. Stop pouting. Put your shoes on.” John said as he tucked his phone and wallet into one of his massive pockets.

Alex sullenly put on his heels. Because why wouldn’t he be wearing heels? At least no one would know it was him for all the added height. He slipped into the elaborate slippers and snagged his phone, keys and wallet off the kitchen counter. They took Gilbert's car, it being the only vehicle that would make the trip out of the city and to the estate they would be going to.

When they arrived he wanted to turn around. They passed the gate and drove up the long drive. His friends chatted about the grandeur already. The trees were glittering with lights and the fountain in the circle was bright and bubbling. They slipped their masks back on when the valet approached the car. Stepping out, Alex was filled with anxiety once again. It ate at his insides. God, this was such a bad idea.

As they approached the massive doors of the colonial mansion, Alex held his breath. He had a snagged invite in his pocket and it practically burned. They were greeted by an austere looking man in a tux wearing a simple silver mask. He knew everyone else employed for the party would look similar. He had helped pick out the mask after all. He handed the invite to the man at the door. He took it and let them pass silently.

When they entered, Alex let himself breathe again. Relief was only momentary. He didn’t have a chance to admire the towering ceilings or the chandeliers, the grand staircase, the way candles and flowers were everywhere, the soft wafting of the orchestra. He spotted George instantly. How could he miss him? He was acutely aware of the man no matter the distance. A woman in a suit approached them with a tray of champagne and he reached for the alcohol instantly, downing half the liquid without thinking. 

“Easy, buddy. We just got here.” John said.

“I’m gonna need something stronger…” Alex said before darting into a room away from George.

His plan was simple: avoid George Washington for the remainder of the evening. It did not occur to him that he was a brilliant red beacon. His goal was to survive the evening quietly, collect his friends when the time came and slip out unnoticed. He turned to his friends to arrange a time to leave and wet met by only two masked faces. Having already lost Lafayette, this wasn’t going to be an easy evening.

“We leave by midnight.” He told them firmly.

“Midnight!? It’s already nine, Alex. Be reasonable.”

“That is me being reasonable. We leave by midnight and you do not under any circumstances speak to Mr. Washington.”

“Alex, it’s a masquerade. We won’t know if we do and neither will he.”

“Midnight. No talking to the host.” Alex said before turning away from them, missing their shared look of ire.

He wandered and watched. There was a combination of looks in similar taste to his own and many modern designer gowns and suits in combination with simple or elaborate masks. Still, none so extravagant as his. He felt stares and he heard mumbles of awe. A few people complimented him fervently as he passed. He nodded and thanked them. He finally found the bar. He approached and was grateful that most people preferred the offered champagne or cocktails floating around the room.

“Whatever’s easiest, please.”

The bartender was pouring him and Alex quickly realized it was absinthe. He wanted to roll his eyes at the man. Fun to watch but not the easiest and quickest option. He was waiting with as much patience as he could muster when someone took the spot next to him. The movement caught his eye and he turned. He suppressed a groan. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thought instantly.

There was a kind of cosmic comedy to this. He had gone in the other direction to avoid this man and was now merely inches from him. He could practically smell the cologne from here. He took a moment to look over his costume, remembering that with his mask on his admiration wasn’t going to be noticed. 

George had foregone the jacket that most men were suffering through. At the very least, he wasn’t wearing it now. His vest was short and white with a flourishing blue design. His shirt sleeves were loose but did nothing to conceal the muscle there. His cuffs were long and fitted, seemingly making his hands appear even larger than usual. Strong thighs were clad in white pants with a tall front, a trio of gold buttons on either side of its front panel. George had obviously seen reason and wore smart black boots that brushed his knees.He wore no mask. He was however sporting a powder white wig that gave Alex pause.

The bartender immediately gave his attention to their host. “What can I get you, sir?”

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

The velvety smooth voice rolled over him, cutting through the noise around them. He turned more, truly facing George. He offered a small smile and looked around the room. It would be weird if he didn’t say something, right? Washington wasn’t going to notice it was him. He couldn’t.

“This is quite the event,” he offered.

“It might have gotten away from me,” George offered with a guilty smile.

“And here I thought you’d be a guy in control,” Alex quipped. He had seen George’s dismissal of planning and yet the anxiety that had plagued him through the process. It was a massive event and honestly, George would have been more than content to not have the thing. Except, it was for charity. He suffered through. Alex had done his best to minimize the stress of involvement but there were still decisions to be made. He had never had to pull off a party on this scale before and that was where he deferred to Washington’s judgement.

“I do enjoy exercising control,” he paused and shifted his body a little closer. “But I had someone I trust implicitly handle the more...irksome tasks.”

“And he did all this?” Damn right.

“He had a heavy hand in it. Everyone is having a marvelous time thanks to him. I couldn’t be prouder.” Alex flushed under the mask at the praise. George continued, “Next year I think I’ll hand the whole thing off to him.”

Like hell you will, Alex mentally cursed. “I’d advise against it.” he said instead.

George laughed. “It’d drive him absolutely mad.”  
“You’re pretty twisted, aren’t you?”

George smirked. “I’ve never flinched when it comes to ruffling a few feathers.” His hand was raised and a large hand invaded Alex’s space. It took one of the feathers of his mask and lightly stroked it.

Alex felt like he was standing on the sun. The room was suddenly overwhelmingly hot and his blood was boiling in his veins. He swallowed thickly. Was George Washington flirting with him right now? And rather aggressively at that. He had never had a chance to see George like this. He was the vision of cool collection most of the time and when he wasn’t he was one of two things; beyond exhausted or completely livid.

“Men who flinch don’t throw parties like this so I can’t say I’m surprised.” he uttered.

Thankfully, their missing bartender came over to them with drinks. The light green liquid shimmered under the lights, a bubbling sugar cube still rested above the liquid. Alex gratefully accepted the murky beverage. He tipped the sugar cube off the spoon and let it slide into his glass, stirring the cube until it dissolved completely He watched as George did the same. Setting the spoon on the counter Alex met dark eyes. George raised his glass slightly.

“To a fine evening put together by the finest of men,” he saluted.

His heart nearly beat out of his chest. “To ruffling feathers.”

George smiled and took a sip. Alex mirrored him. He savored the liquor in his mouth. He was about to try to find an excuse to leave when he realized that George was looking at him intently. “What? He asked self consciously. He hadn’t had a chance to get anything on him yet.

“Your costume is very bold. Beautiful, really. Then again, it would have to be to be worn by you.”

He choked on the drink he had timed poorly. “You really do enjoy ruffling feathers, don’t you?”

“It’s certainly becoming more appealing.”

Alex chuckled. “I wouldn’t make a habit of it, Big Guy.”

“Why’s that?”

Because my fucking heart will explode! “All that charm is going to get you into trouble someday.”

“You think I’m charming?” He actually sounded surprised.

“I’m sure you get that all the time,” Alex said in an attempt to brush it off. He realized they had drifted closer at some point. They had invaded each others’ space, toe to toe. He focused on the crowd around them. They were being watched. Not by many but there were definitely sideways glances and secretive smiles being shared between some of the party goers. He couldn’t hear a word they said. “I think we’re being watched.”

George sat his drink on the counter tap. He leaned over slightly, his head lowering to Alex’s ear. “Undoubtedly. These people are awful gossips.”

Alex resisted the urge to turn his face towards the taller man, knowing if he did the would touch, their noses would likely brush. He let out a short, sharp laugh. “And you invited them into your home.”

“What was it you said about flinching men and parties like these? I’m hardly the type to be bothered by idle chatter.”

“I believe I also mentioned trouble,” Alex stopped talking when he felt George’s fingertips dancing against the ruffled edge of his shirt sleeve, his fingers perhaps accidentally ghosting over his hand. The contact was innocuous. Hell, if he weren’t hyper aware, he’d have missed it.

“You were saying? Hot breath ghosted over his skin. Jesus, could the man be any bolder?

“You should be more careful, sir.” he whispered sweetly. He had to get the fuck out of there before he did something reckless. “You keep playing fire.”

“Are you saying you’re hot?” George said with a smile as he returned to his full height, his hand not leaving the proximity to Alex’s.

“Are you saying you’re playing with me?” He challenged. He had to suppress a shiver when George’s fingertips ran down the side of his hand. God, the man flirted like they were courting secretly. The barely acceptable distance that could easily be mistaken for two people standing closer to talk over the hum of the room, the delicate touches that were as erotic as they were frustrating…

“I can assure you, I’m not playing.” George said hotly and Alex nearly buckled.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” he struggled out. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the soft pink visage that could only be Lafayette. He stared aggressively, making his distraction obvious. When George turned to see what caught his attention, Alex stepped back. Only, George caught his hand. Alex let out a soft ‘oh’ without intent. “I, uhm, have to go say hello.”

George looked back at him. He was wearing a new expression; discontent, fiery, amused, frustrated. All at once. He let his thumb rub distractedly over Alex’s hand. “Call me Sir one more time and I’ll let you go.”

Alex was red from his ears to his toes by now. Still, he managed to speak calmly. “Why? Is that your kink?”

“I’ve grown rather fond of it. I’d like to hear it from that mouth again.”

Fuck.

He’d never be able to call him sir again without getting an erection. He let his mind wander to what it would be like to be on his knees in front of Washington, that distracting thumb tracing over his lip, catching the tip in his mouth. He’d be begging, pleading “sir”. He shuddered out a breath.

“Come on. One little word, Pet. One word and you can run off to your friend,”

Alex was suddenly groggy. His knees were weak and he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. George Washington was touching him, flirting with him, ordering him around, seducing him. But he wasn’t him. He had only flirted back because in real life, the one he had to go back to after this Versailles mirage was over, Alexander Hamilton would not flirt with his boss. He was though. It felt good. Fucking sinful is what it felt like.

“Please, sir.” he didn’t know what he was asking for. He just knew he sounded needy.

George smirked, raised the hand in his grasp to his mouth and pressed a kiss not to the top like a gentleman. No, he pressed his lips to the thin skin inside Alex’s wrist. Alex bit his lip for fear of making a sound he would never be able to take back.

“Music to my ears.” George smiled into the skin before pulling back. “Speaking of music, I should probably check in with the Orchestra. You should go say hello to your friend.” The vision of cool collection was back.

“Would you look at that?” Alex said straightening up. He brushed a hand down his coat. ‘Not a ruffle out of place.”

George laughed and touched his mask again. “If you say so.” He grabbed his drink and walked away. Alex flipped him off behind his back.

When he approached Lafayette he received a salacious grin over the rim of a champagne glass. He shook his head. Denial. He was in denial. There was simply no way that that had actually happened. There was no way that one of his friends, who needlessly insisted that his boss shared his interest, had witnessed whatever had just transpired. He didn’t need someone feeding into his delusions. Not when there was a very strong chance that Washington wasn’t even aware of who he was, who he had flirted with. He couldn’t imagine George crossing that boundary with him. 

“I see now why you broke off. It would appear that even under this guise there is no keeping you apart,” Gilbert said when they stood side by side.

Alex scoffed and took a drink. “He doesn’t even know it’s me, Gil. It doesn’t count.”

“Perhaps it is more important. Now you know he finds you attractive. You are alluring to him.” the taller man said with a shrug that was entirely too french.

“Hardly. I’m just a big red beacon.”

“Beak-on” Gil said with a chuckle, poking at his mask.

“Hardy har-har. Seriously, Gil. He would never act like that with me.”

“Only because you have not given him the opportunity.”

Alex chewed on that for a moment. Of course he hadn’t. He wasn’t that much of a masochist. He was hardly going to openly flirt with his boss on the clock… or on the couch in George’s flat in town that he frequently found himself on while going over itineraries, or at their favorite bistro that George often dragged him out to because otherwise the likelihood of Alex eating before the sun went down was near none.

There were a thousand and one private moments Alex could have batted his eyes or sat a little too close, touched his arm longer than necessary or sweet talked the man. They had so many intimate moments over the years… he wouldn’t change that for the world. He wouldn’t give up a single carefully collected moment just for the sake of having risked what they have now.

“But you have the opportunity now, non?”

He did. There was a little ache just behind his ribs when he thought about what that meant. One night. He could have one glorious night where he knew what it was like to be wooed by George Washington. He could have one night of teasing attention, playful caresses, hot whispers in his ear, simmering gazes… he could take that and live with the memories of it forever.

He wouldn’t.

He could not.

He would always want more. What he felt for George went beyond one hot, and it would be impossibly hot, night. He wanted to be woken up with kisses when the sun was still too low, lazy afternoons on the couch flipping through pages while George wore the reading glasses he refused to sport in public, bickering in car rides, taking the scenic route through the park even though they needed to get back to the office. He wanted his spot at George’s side to never be in question, no matter where they were.

One night wouldn’t cut it. He wanted every night. He wanted a lifetime.

Pretenses be damned. He wouldn’t be able to keep up the facade once he got a taste. He shook his head and finished his drink a little too quickly. Lafayette assumedly raised his brow at the action. He shrugged and sat his glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “Non, Mon Amie. There is no opportunity.”

Lafayette heaved a sigh. “Tu es un imbécile.”

Alex chuckled. “Oh, without a doubt.”

“And a stubborn ass.”

“Marie, my friend!”

Alex prickled instantly when the words were spoken behind him. Could this not be happening right now? On the list of things that Alex wanted to not occur tonight, including coming to the party and meeting George, interacting with Thomas Jefferson sat at the very top. He was in no mood to listen to him prattle on. And as he was masked, he had very little restraint to call forth. Anonymity was a proxy that Alex so rarely got to use, preferring to face his opponents head on. But now… here was the asshole with which he had the biggest bone to pick and they were both wearing masks. Alex technically wasn’t actually there.

“Thomas!” Lafayette said elatedly, his accent making the word sound remarkably charming despite who it announced.

“You look dashing as always,” he said as they kissed cheeks.

“I could say the same,” Gilbert returned.

Alex rolled his eyes at Jefferson’s costume. Of course. It was well done, Alex would give him that. A red vision of Versailles fashion at its height. His mask was barely there. Red embellishments lay on his face in the semblance of a mask that did nothing to conceal his identity. The curves made his expression look sinister despite its relaxed state. There were glittering red horns on his head.

How appropriate, Alex thought with a mental sneer.

“And who is your delightfully decorated companion?” Thomas asked looking at him.

Alex almost choked. God, they’d spent most of the time they’d known each other bickering, okay, fighting with each other. Fuck. They were notorious for having to be pulled away from each other to avoid drawing blood and this guy honestly didn’t know it was him. Alex was half relieved and half pissed. Then again, if Thomas didn’t know who he was, what was the likelihood that George had recognized him?

Lafayette looked at him and Alex pleaded with his eyes. Gilbert smiled and laughed. “I would introduce you but that would defeat the purpose of a masquerade, don’t you think?”

“Aw, you certainly know how to pique my interest. Very well. No names,” Alex didn’t like the way that Jefferson was looking at him. “Aren’t you a pretty bird?” Thomas said in a sickeningly sweet voice. Alex saw more than felt his hand being lifted and watched as a dry kiss was placed on the top of his hand. His mask seemed to cover most of his shock and disgust.

“And you’re very familiar,” Alex said through gritted teeth as he pulled his hand back slowly. He didn’t want to jerk back and give himself away.

“I would certainly like to be.”

Alex forced out a sharp chuckle. His gaze cut to Lafayette who seemed to be dying with laughter on the inside. He knew how much Alex detested the man. They had agreed that despite their mutual acquaintance, they would never share the same feelings about the man. Alex was hardly ever going to consider the man a friend… a fiend, maybe.

“That’s… flattering.” Alex said before he sought escape routes. He preferred when Thomas was picking fights.

“I’ve been known to be a flattering guy.” Jefferson said with what probably meant to be a cavalier shrug. Alex thought it made him look like a twat.

“Is that right?” Alex was actively looking around the room now, desperate to get away before he blew his cover and told Thomas to fuck right off.

“It’s one of my many charms.”

“To be sure.”

“Are you looking for someone? Perhaps your date?” Thomas asked with no subtlety.

“Oh no, he came alone.” Gilbert said with a smile. Alex whipped around and glared through his mask.

“A pity,” Thomas said with no remorse. “A prize like you flying solo...that’s a shame.”

Alex offered him a weary smile. “Actually, I was looking for a drink. I seem to have finished mine.”

“Allow me to get you another,” the devil offered, taking his leave before asking what it was exactly he was drinking.

“Thanks, Satan.” Alex hissed after he had gone. He then jabbed his elbow into Lafayette’s side as he rumbled with laughter. “Asshole!”

“I-I thought it was v-very f-f-funny,” Gilbert said through hiccups of laughter.

“Well, I hope you had your fun. I’m going to go hide before he tries anything funny. Who knows what he’s gonna do with that drink.” Alex said with a shudder before rushing away.

Now was a good as time as any to try to check in on his other friends. He meandered through the crowds and the rooms with purpose at first. Gradually, his pace slowed and he began to let himself drift more easily. He started to go into a haze. The alcohol was definitely easing his anxiety and softening his outlook. He trailed through rooms and let his fingers drift over fabric and marble as he walked.

It was surreal. The people in masks, laughing and dancing, the music that seemed to carry to every room. He felt like he had stepped through time. As he moved, he caught glimpses of George; chatting with a group of men, welcoming guests, accepting small toasts. Each time, they locked eyes and Alex felt his blood boil. It didn’t matter where he went, he seemed to always come back to George.

So, he made a game of it. He would wander through one room at a time, stopping only to touch something and take account of its occupants. He would accept compliments on his outfit, inquire about people’s enjoyment, lock eyes with George when he entered. They would share a heated gaze. He’d smile flirtatiously and when he thought George was going to make a move towards him, he would excuse himself and slip away.

It was exhilarating. His pulse beat against his skin. He felt delightful. He was playing at something, he didn’t know what. He didn’t expect this game to come to an end. In fact, he was content to keep it up all night. He’d leave having danced through the evening knowing he had kept George’s attention.

He followed the music into the next room. He couldn’t fight the smile that had made its way to his face. He felt like he had swallowed the sun. He was standing on the edge of the ballroom when he saw George enter from the other side. He drifted towards the crowd, blending himself in as well as he was able with his obvious costume. He found a more colorful group to conceal himself next to. He listened to the waltz that played for a moment. Having realized that he had lost track of George, he began to eagerly peer around the room.

“Looking for me?” came a deep voice from behind him. He would have whipped around if not for the crowd. He would have whipped around if not for steady hand on his hip.

His breath hitched. He felt entirely disconnected from reality. He licked his lips before speaking in a breathy voice. “That depends,”

“On what?”

“On who you are?”

“You know who I am.” But you don’t know who I am, Alex thought.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this is a masquerade. If I know who you are then you’re not following the rules very well.”

“My party, my rules.”

The voice was too close. It was rich and smooth and had the hairs on his neck rising. He wanted to turn into it. That would be highly inappropriate. He did it anyway. He turned his head slightly and was met only with the hazy shape of a man he knew too well. He cheek nearly brushed George’s face. It might have if not for his mask.

“That sounds like something a man who doesn’t play well others might say.”

“I seem to play just fine with you,” George rumbled out. Alex closed his eyes when the hand on his hip tightened. He pressed his lips together and indulged in the feeling. He wanted to know what it felt like without a thousand layers between them.

“I can’t really play a game when I don’t know the rules,” he said softly.

George hummed and let his free hand caress Alex’s. “I think I like it this way,”

“Is that so?” Alex huffed out as his fingers flexed against the teasing touch. “You really meant it when you said you enjoy exercising control.”

“I’m certainly enjoying it with you.” His breath was hot and so very close. Alex felt lips, those lips, press softly behind his ear. His knees nearly buckled.

“Fuck. Sir,” he hissed out. He didn’t really know what else to say. He was sure fireworks were going off inside him. He felt dizzy. He was drunk on arousal. He pressed back into the chest behind him.

“Yes.” It should have been a question. It should have been anything but gentle and sure acceptance.

Alex was stumped. He didn’t know what to say. Being at a loss for words was entirely new to him. He was usually a one man debate team. All he could think about was the soft lighting and the music and George. George. George. George.

The fingers that had been dancing over his skin laced between his fingers and another hot kiss was pressed to his skin. His head lulled and he hummed at the sensation. His fingers curled around George’s and his other hand reached back to find solace in the fabric of George’s pants. He felt the powerful muscle just under it and shivered.

“You were saying?” George reminded him.

“Was I saying something?” he asked mindlessly.

“I believe you were remarking on control, more specifically my control,” he didn’t say over you. He didn’t have to.

“Right. Yes. Control…”

Except the idea of George being in control of his short circuited his brain. He was overwhelmed with images of being under him, kneeling before him, being bent over. He thought about those hands holding his hips tighter, holding more than just his hips.

He should extract himself. He should find a way to slip away. He had to get away. He was ready to fling himself down and beg to be taken. He finally realized their little game of chase was foreplay. He was beyond ready. He was about to plead for something he was unable to put words to when he was broken out of his stupor.

“Ah, there you are.” Thomas’ voice broke through his haze.

George pulled back slowly, not quite taking the hand off his hip. They both turned to view Jefferson making his way over with a drink in either hand. George’s hand seemed to tighten on his hip. Alex wanted to give him a reassuring squeeze. Despite public appearances, George wasn’t fond of Thomas Jefferson. However, he was smart enough to recognize the advantages of playing nice and utilizing him when he could.

“You slipped off without a word. You’re a hard little bird to pin down.” Jefferson said, not quite taking in their company. Finally, he seemed to notice George. Impressive really, seeing as with his height the man was difficult to miss. “George! I was wondering when I was going to get the chance to compliment you on a marvelous evening,” his gaze cut to Alex. “You never disappoint and it would seem neither do your guests.”

Fucking snake. Alex remained silent. He had often learned it was wisest to let George take the lead with Thomas. George simply smiled. It was a practiced look that George only seemed to use with people he found tiresome. Alex could probably call it his Jefferson smile. It was so rarely used with anyone else.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” George didn’t shift away. “I’m surprised James isn’t with you. It’s so rare to see you two apart.”

Oh! It was going to be like that. George was heavily insinuating what everyone whispered. Thomas and James, practically inseparable, maybe to a degree worse than George and Alex. Likely because they were attached at the dick. Alex bit back a smile. He wanted to high five George. Never had he imagined high-fiving George Washington but damn did the man deserve one for that masterpiece.

“Unfortunately, he’s come down with something. He asked me to pass along his apologies.” Thomas was undeterred, obviously used to the remarks. Though he did seem thrown that it was coming from Washington for once.

“So sorry to hear that. I hope he makes a speedy recovery,” George said with sincerity. He didn’t give anything away but his thumb was definitely dancing against the back of Alex’s coat. Alex looks up at George as slyly as he’s able. His face probably reads as something between needy and “Seriously? Right now?” but George doesn’t know it’s him. As such, he has no idea that he’s teasing Alex in the presence of the man that would eat this shit up if he knew.

“He always does,” Jefferson said with a smile. “A shame... he makes an excellent wing man.” Thomas shot Alex a wink. If Alex heard another bird pun from this man, he was going to take one of those horns off his head and shove it up his ass. Probably poor party manners, but he’d find a way to make it up to George. It would likely involve his mouth… With that thought, he pressed his leg to George’s inconspicuously. 

He received a sharp side eye and the hand on his hip dipped to the curve of his ass. He received a firm squeeze. He was grateful his lips were firmly sealed or he would have yelped in surprise. The touch was there and gone in a flash. He found the hand on the curve of his back and was sorely disappointed at its hasty retreat.

“I guess you’ll be flying solo this evening,” Alex said with thinly veiled dismissal.

There was a sharp cry of George’s name behind them. They turned and saw a small group of people waiting for their host to join them. An eager older woman waved him over with a gloved hand. George gave a small nod and single wave of his hand to indicate that he would be over in a moment.

He looked Alexander and it gave him pause. If Alex was there as himself he simply would have accompanied George to greet them, taking in the details they discussed to make notes for future engagements. He vaguely recognized the woman as the wife of a long time associate. He wanted to remind George to ask about their recent vacation and inquire about their daughter’s pregnancy. Instead, he offered a small smile. They could attend to their little game later… if he was still here.

“If you’ll excuse me,” George said politely to Thomas while his hand lingered for another moment on Alex. “Thomas, always a pleasure.”

“Of course.” Thomas didn’t bother to look at him, still staring at Alex as though he were dinner.

George drifted away. Alex watched him go and felt his absence almost instantly. Then again...watching him walk away wasn’t so bad either. The man wore his trousers well. Alex was lost in his visual pursuit, watching George shake hands and smile at his guests. He enjoyed taking in the many faces of George Washington. Presently, he was wearing a very diplomatic expression he used for exchanging pleasantries. 

“He really is old hat at that, isn’t he?”

“I’m sorry?” Alex asked, turning his attention back to Jefferson.

The man wore a cavalier facade but Alex could see the sneer under all the fakery. “Oh, he’s a pleasant enough man. Everyone loves Washington. Probably because he’s been around forever.” Thomas took a drink and stepped closer. “He’s had a good run.”

Alex stiffened. “I’m not sure I follow…”

“Between us,” he said with a heavy tone, “I think he’s losing his touch. His name is enough to get him by. He doesn’t have a lick of sense anymore. He’s aged out.”

“You make it sound like he’s a hundred years old.” Alex clenched. George was older, sure, but he was hardly the grandfather Thomas was making him out to be.

“Not at all. Just significantly behind the times. The only input he gets about the modern age is from his smart ass secretary. A monkey wouldn’t take advice from the guy. Then again, a monkey might be more fit to do both their jobs.” Thomas chuckled and shook his idea, clearly imaging it.

“And I suppose you’re the right man for the job?” Alex asked with disdain that went unnoticed.

Thomas smiled. It was cocky and irritating. Alex was quickly losing his patience. “I used to admire the man but it’s just rather sad now. He’s not what he used to be. He’s easily swayed and one of these days it’s going to catch up with him. I know what I want and I go after it.” He was far too close. The smell of his cologne irritated Alex’s nostrils. His voice was slow and his drawl thick. “Some people prefer a man who can think for himself.”  
Maybe it was the liquor, maybe it was the mask, maybe it was the lingering sensation of warmth that George had left on his side, but he’d had enough. He wasn’t about to sit there and let Thomas fucking Jefferson talk shit about a man hundreds of people respected, a man he respected.

“You sad, sack of shit. You aren’t fit to lick his boots! ‘A man who thinks for himself’? Fucking laughable! You mean you only think about yourself.” Alex began with a hiss before his voice got away from him and he began to shout. The fact that they were in a ballroom full of people with excellent acoustics didn’t register. “You self-righteous, macaroni motherfucker! He could run mental circles around you in his sleep! Keep biting the hand that feeds you and see how far that gets yo-” he was cut off.

He didn’t finish his sentence as he was currently upside down. The floor looked back at him. He was about to go off on whoever had decided to hoist him over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes until he realized he was face to face with an unmistakable ass clad in white.

Shit.

“If you’ll excuse us,” George said politely before he exited the room, Alex still dangling helplessly over his shoulder.

His face flushed with embarrassment. So much for not attracting attention…

To make matters worse, George proceeded to carry him like that through throngs of people. The hushed whispers and opening gawking made him want to die. At the very least, these people didn’t have a clue who he was. On the other hand, George wasn’t wearing a mask. Even if he had been, the man was easily recognized.

He was jostled slightly as they ascended a great staircase. Wasn’t he tired of carrying the extra weight? He moved like it was nothing to him. His pace was swift and steady. They traveled down a hall. Alex was about to insist that he be set to rights to save what was left of his pride when they stopped in front of a door. It was open and shut in a blur. He was left dizzy when he was set on feet.

George spoke as he let the room come into focus. “Well… that was a spectacle to say the least.”

Instantly irritated again, Alex huffed. “He’s a twat. I’m so sick of him running his mouth whenever Madison’s dick isn’t in it.”

“Alexander,” his tone was soft.

“If that fucker thinks I’m going to twiddle my thumbs and let him talk shit, he has another thing coming! God, Sir! If you had heard the things he said about you...you…” He paused. He stared at the man in front of him. “What did you just call me?”

“Alexander. Using your full name is often the most effective way to get your attention.” George said. A smile danced at the corner of his mouth.

“But that’s… and you… your hand… my ass…” Alex flapped. “It’s a masquerade!”

“I’m glad you made it after all. I was concerned when you declined my second invite.”

“Because it was a pity invite?” He explained and questioned.

George huffed out a laugh of disbelief. “I thought you knew me better than that by now. I’ve never been one to hand things out because of pity.”

“Obligation, then.” Alex insisted.

“Alex, I feel many things for you. Obligation is most certainly not among them.”

Floundering, Alex began to pace. He was silent. His brow was furrowed. He was in disarray. His thoughts were too rapid to place. He recounted the events of the evening. He tried to pick out the moment that George had realized it was him and he came up blank. He stopped mid step and turned back to face the man.

“You squeezed my ass.” He hoped his tone hadn’t come out as accusatory.

George simply smiled. “I can do it again if you’d like.”

Alex laughed despite the wave of heat that went through him. “George Washington, you’re a flirt!”

“Only when I want to be.”

George moved towards him. Alex stood a little straighter when they were toe to toe. George reached up and his hands loosened the stays of his mask. The air in the room was cool against his flesh and his head felt about ten pounds lighter. He was rooted to the spot but he was a million miles away from earth.  
George tossed the mask god knows where. His hands came up to frame Alex’s face. His thumbs swiping across flushed skin. “I’m so glad you’re here.” His voice was as sweet as ever. Alex felt himself swaying into whatever fantasy he was having.

Me too. “I made a scene.”

“I’ll deal with that later.” George dismissed.

“You made a scene.” Alex pointed out.

“I’m entitled to a scene in my own home.”

Alex smiled. He worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “What else are you entitled to in your home?”

The answering look he got was outright illegal. Dark eyes that spoke only of seduction, brimming with sinful promises. His hands moved of their own volition. They pressed against George’s ribs. They’d had what felt like hours of foreplay already. He was still as painfully aware of his desire for the taller man as ever.

“You.”

His mouth was pressed into a dry kiss that he happily surrendered to. It didn’t disappoint. There was a moment of ‘finally’ before he let himself be carried away by sensation. George was secure. He was steadfast in life and in his attention to Alex. His mouth moved slowly. He was sure in his touch. He wasn’t playing at this. He pulled back and Alex was helpless to do anything but let him.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hold you like this?” George asked against his cheek.

Not nearly as long as I’ve waited. “All evening?” The flesh of his cheek received a nip. It was a tiny bite that was more playful than painful.

“Smartass.” George quipped before going in for another kiss.

It wasn’t slow this time. Alex wouldn’t call it tender either. It was a show of desire. George was paving paths and leaving fire in his wake. His hands shifted; one cradled the curve of Alexander’s head, the other moving so that he was braced inside impossibly strong arms. He was pinned. He couldn’t have been happier.

“Sir,” Alex panted when they parted for air.

George pressed his face into the curve of his neck and Alex was mush. He felt a groan rumble into him. “I can’t tell you what that does to me.”

Alex couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face. “Work must be hell for you then.”

“I can’t count the number of times I’ve nearly laid you out on my desk,” George said with a lave of his tongue.

Fuck. “Fuck,” Alex hissed out. His fingers dug into flesh, grasping at the only thing he could touch.

“We’re getting there,” George answered.

“Please… I can’t touch you like this.”

“That’s the idea.”

Alex emitted a noise that might have been mistaken for a whimper. “Please,” he begged. After all this time, after all the agony and the pining… he had to touch him. His life depended on it. At least, it felt like it.

“After the scene downstairs, I can hardly let you have your way.” The arm around him flexed and Alex could have come like that. 

“Jefferson started it,” he tried pitifully.

“You always say that.”

“I always mean it.” he wiggled in the grip, testing the strength.

“I’m going to finish it,” George said before he sucked with bruising force against Alex’s collar, “and you.”

“Oh.” Alex was pulled forward and pressed fully against him. The pressure was electric. He could feel George everywhere and it still wasn’t enough. His leg shifted and he felt something else. “Oh!”

“You look down right delectable tonight.” George ignored him

“I don’t every night?” The hand cupping his neck moved before he could think. A sharp crack echoed and the burn across his cheeks spread followed by an aggressive moan. Georged hummed in approval. His large hand caressed over the still humming skin.

“You’ve got a smart mouth.” George said more flicking his tongue against Alex’s parted lips. Alex let the tip of tongue peak out to tease him back.

“You know… the only time I shut up is when I have something in my mouth.” Alex said saucily before he managed, by some miracle as George was content to hold out on him, to catch the other’s tongue and suck it into his mouth greedily.

George pulled back with a hungry expression. His steely grip released. He stepped back until there was a foot of distance between them. If Alex weren’t painfully hard and out of his mind with desire, he might have felt awkward standing there. He let George observe him silently. Finally, George made a decision. One hand came up to the ruffles at his neck and he pulled them with such force there was no saving it. The excess fabric came away from him in a flurry. George held it in his hand for a moment before tossing it to the side.

“Such a pleasant surprise,” George said, seemingly talking to himself. “I’m going to unwrap my present now. You’re going to be very still. Understood?” George said, letting the tips of his fingers dance against Alex’s neck.

He was having a hard time formulating thoughts at this point. “Yes.”

George let the blunt edge of his neat fingernails drag over his skin. “Yes, what?”

Alex shuddered. His body quivered and he swayed. He wanted to climb onto the man. He wanted the luxurious pleasure of feeling George against him again. He didn’t think about his lack of response.

“Alexander. Yes, what?” George reminded him.

It didn’t take any effort to search for the answer. It was his natural response to whatever George asked. It was like breathing to him. The words came so easily. The words were always on the tip of his tongue. “Yes, Sir.”

George smiled. It shook him. That was his smile. It was the smile George really only used with him. Soft and warm, full of pleasure, laced with a hint possession. All this time, George had been looking at him that way.

“It sounds so good coming from you.”

It felt so good to say it like that; like it was his claim. He had always used it to show his respect, to show his dedication, to distance them… but now it brought them closer. Knowing that George had been affected by its daily use delighted him.

George moved closer and Alex caught himself before he lifted his arms to gather the man closer. George noticed his struggle and touched his jaw. “Patience, pet.” Alex whined. George tisked. “Good things come to those who wait.”

George circled behind him. He could feel the heat on his back and closed his eyes. He could do this. He’d waited this long. What were a few moments more? Large hands touched the nape of his neck, followed the edge of his jacket and slowly began to pull it off. Alex’s heaving breath sounded impossibly loud in his ears. He felt it being removed leisurely. The weight lifted from his shoulders and slipped down his arms. He heard George shift and fabric rustled. He had obviously taken care with it.

He kept his eyes closed in an effort not to move. He felt George behind him again. His hands stroked down the length of Alex’s arms. He had to clench his fists. George pried his hands open with an easy drag of his fingers. Alex nearly swore. This was the purest form of torture. Fingers undid hidden buttons, freeing Alex’s wrists. He wished he hadn’t. The light pressure there had been oddly comforting. He felt too free now.

“Sir… my wrists.”

George dragged his lips over the back of Alex’s neck slowly. “We’ll get to that.”

God. Damn. It. “You have to let me touch you.”

A hand slid up his chest causing George’s arm to drag against his side as he moved. His hand rested below Alex’s clavicle. His fingers sprawled. Alex’s attention was solely on the pressure, the size of the appendage. George dragged his teeth over the shell of his ear, coming to rest at the lobe. He tugged before speaking. “I have to? That’s not how you ask for what you want.”

He didn’t have the words to ask for what he wanted. He didn’t have the brain cells. They had barely touched and he wasn’t coherent. He let out a weak gust of air. He tried to think of something, anything to get George to hurry. His patience was hanging on by a hair.

“I just- you- fu…” he managed eloquently.

“Speechless?” Needy. Wanton. Call it what you may, he didn’t give a damn anymore.

George’s other arm came up and he began the agonizing adventure that was unbuttoning his vest. Alex cursed Hercules aggressively for not putting aside historical accuracy for the ease of getting naked. Next year he was going as something slutty with one big zipper. Although, he was sure George would find a way to drag that out too.

When he finally got to the bottom, his hands slipped inside to touch Alexander’s chest. Alex struggled to keep his composure. When George’s hands came just under his nipples. He bypassed them completely. Alex was ready to scream. He bit his lip while George divested him of the long vest. Alex gathered his patience. He told himself it was just the shirt to go and then George would bend him over and drive into him until the end of time. Not that he’d last that long at this point.

Instead he felt fingers at the clasps by his knees. He opened his eyes and looked down, turning his head over his shoulder to see George’s massive form crouched to give his legs some freedom. George looked up at him and quirked a brow. He leaned forward and his teeth dug into the side of Alex’s cheek. A silent moan formed, his mouth making a soft ‘O’.

“I believe I told you to stay still.”

“Yes, sir.” He was still looking. George looked at him expectantly. He wasn’t able to hide the pout on his face. He watched as George struggled internally for a moment before he nipped his ass again and pointed, wordlessly telling Alex to face forward. Alex gave a sullen, “yes, sir.”

George rewarded him by letting his hands drag over his legs as he rose. He circled back to the front. Alex felt eyes on him. He was too aware to look up so he kept his eyes on the floor, staring at the shiny toe of George’s boots.

Two fingers came under his chin and raised his head. George leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re a needy little thing.”

“‘M not needy.” A blatant lie.

George licked the skin he had just kissed before chuckling. “Of course not, Darling. Not at all.”

“Are you going to torture me all night?” It was meant to be snarky. He was usually so good at being snarky. It came out as a resigned whine.

“No.” George pulled back and smiled. That wasn’t his smile. Something purely wicked hid there. “Not all night.”

He yanked Alex closer by the front of his pants. Somehow, he managed to keep his hands by his side. George praised him and it went straight to his cock. His shirt came free of its confines and he was in ecstasy when he felt skin on his. It was dry and hot and so damn good. George mouthed at his neck as he touched. Only pulling away to remove the last layer.

Alex shivered. Not from the cold, not from being exposed, but because his mind ran away from him and he was anticipating what was to come. Unfortunately, George had other plans. He wasn’t getting away that easily.

When his hands went towards his pants, Alex thought surely he was going to touch him. He needed the pain to ease. He was so close. He could feel it. He was already on edge. Instead George traced the band with his fingertips. He traced it all the way around, circling him. He paused for a moment behind him to trace the line of Alex’s spine. He moaned but he didn’t move. When George was in front of him again, his eyes had drifted shut. His chest was heaving. His whole body shook. He felt hands loosen his pants and deftly tug them down until they swam around his ankles.

George took his hands and Alex bit his lip. He didn’t need to see him to know that smile was in place again. “Step out of your pants, Alexander.”

With flushed cheeks, Alex stepped out of the fabric. He stood there and waited with bated breath. When George didn’t move, didn’t speak, he opened his eyes. George looked positively ravenous. He looked down again and nearly blanched.

He was naked in front of his boss… nearly naked. He stood fully erect while wearing white stockings and heels. Well, this had taken an embarrassing turn. He flushed. He would have covered his body if he weren’t rooted to the spot by George’s gaze. The nagging feeling of exposure was easily overwhelmed by the heat between them. The room was silent and Alex began to shift.

“Stay still.” George said before circling him once again. Alex had to stop himself from tracking his movements with a turn of his head.

“I’m trying.” Alex huffed. He wanted to challenge the man. He wanted to pout and plead. He wanted to just shove George down and rut against him until he lost they lost their minds. He wanted some relief, some clue at this having an end.

“Don’t be snarky, Alexander.” His tone was half humor, half command behind him.

“Don’t make me wait.” Alex snarked, practically vibrating.

He heard a sharp inhale followed by a slow exhale. Ah, finally. Something he was familiar with. George often used it as a discreet method to calm himself when someone was trying his patience. Alex was very accustomed to that noise. It took on a new connotation now. Instead of his usual disregard towards the noise, trucking on in hopes that his point would be valid enough that George would forgive his lack of tact, he felt overcome with a need to please.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted before George could say or do anything. “I didn’t… I just… I want to feel you.” His face was burning with blood. He waited. George said nothing. There was movement behind him. He felt George’s hand on his thigh. His whole body trembled. Dark fingers danced against the top of his stockings. They played over the fabric, stroking and tracing. Alex bit his lip when George tucked his index finger under the band. He stood as straight as possible, not wanting to move and cause George to pull away.

Slowly, the rough pad of George’s finger slid against his skin, working back and forth in small strokes as it moved towards the inside of his thigh. His lips trembled as he pressed them together. He was so close. He had never been so desperate for anything in his life. He had wanted a lot of things in a lot of different ways. But this? This was a new form of hell. This was an agony that he both could live with forever and needed to end. 

Seeing him try so hard, as if some sort of reward, George dug his fingers into the skin inside of his thighs and pulled them up at an angle. His fingers burned a glorious path up Alex’s flesh until it came to his hip. Alex whined. At every turn, the thing he wanted was dangled in front of him and then pulled away. You’d think he’d be used to it by now...

“You are incredibly impatient,” George said as he relinquished his grip. His fingers began to tickle lightly over hot flesh again. Little bumps raised in its wake. “Impetuous.” He dropped a kiss to Alex’s shoulder. “Stubborn.” A kiss to his neck. “Bratty.” Lips pressed against his jaw. “Tempting.” He said lowly into his ear.

Between George pressing his lips to his overheated skin and the wandering fingers over his abdomen, Alex was incoherent. He nodded his head in a sleepy sort of way. He simply let George do as he pleased. There was nothing to be done… he was going to die with a raging boner because George Washington had decided that he was going to seduce him within an inch of life and tease him until he was mad. He’d die a happy, albeit frustrated, man.

He wasn’t entirely aware of himself when George pressed the length of his body to Alex’s back. It was moments before he was aware of the rigid strength, feeling the heat before he could consciously recognize where it came from. He let out a groan. He tipped his head back to rest against George’s chest. Fuck the consequences. He didn’t have to move anything else.

George grabbed pale wrists to guide his arms up and around his neck. Alex happily obliged. His fingers pressed into the flesh at the base of George’s skull. He relished finally having something tangible to hold on to. George trailed his hands down the naked flesh of his arms, across the heaving span of his rib cage, brushing softly down his stomach before touching just above his erection. His hand rested where Alex’s arousal lived, touching just over where the coiling heat had taken residence.  
“Please,” Alex begged weakly. His fingers clung, his head hung, he was swimming in desire barely able to catch his breath. If he knew what he wanted, he would have used his words. He would have begged for it. He didn’t know what he needed. He just knew George could give it to him.

“You sound so sweet when you beg.”

He arched into the touch and George finally took hold of him. He could have sobbed with relief. George stroked him slowly all the while his mouth found any place on Alex’s skin he may have missed. He accepted whatever contact he could get. He was putty in George’s masterful hands. 

George Washington was likely the most well restrained man he had ever known. Alex could feel the erection pressing into his back. It intensified his pleasure; to be wanted in return was more than he had ever hoped for. He knew that George was dragging this out for both their pleasure. The idea that it would only get better… well, it hardly seemed real.

One moment he was stretched out along the length of George’s body and the next he was left cold and alone. He turned around, mindlessly seeking the older man’s touch once more. George loomed before him. He felt hot and cold all at once. Alex’s mouth hung open slightly, not wanting to break the spell.

“On the bed.” George said with a gesturing nod.

Alex hesitated only for a moment. The idea of moving further away from George wasn’t appealing at all but pleasing George? That had merit. He turned and walked towards the monstrous platform. The spread was saturated a deep red that looked heavenly. George’s gaze lingered like a touch. He looked over his shoulder when he stood at the edge. 

George had removed his vest. Alex swallowed the lust that stuck in his throat. The muslin fabric of his shirt stretched over muscles that Alex had always assumed were there but his imagination had not been nearly so kind as reality. George was statuesque. He was dark in comparison to the white fabric that clung to his body. Given the opportunity, Alex would have delighted in stripping him down and worshiping that body.

“On the bed, Alexander.” George commanded again. Alex ducked his head down, embarrassed at having been caught staring. He went to toe off the heels but he was stopped. “Leave them.”

He felt awkward in a way that was new to him. He felt raw and exposed. If anyone else had given him that command, he would have glared and taken the heel off before chucking it at their head and telling them where they could shove it. He wasn’t usually one to be bossed around. When George did it, however, it didn’t make him feel vulnerable or guarded. He was safe. If he said no, if he asked George to end this game and take him now, he was certain there would be immediate compliance. He trusted George.  
He placed one knee on the bed, leaning forward to balance himself with his hand. The other followed suit. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Moving was certainly easier without clothing on to restrict his movements but his erection bobbed with his movement causing him a new kind of discomfort. That and in his current position, his exposure was only increased. He didn’t have too much time to think about his ass being on display. George ordered him around some more.

“To the center.”

His knees slid over the fabric with ease, each forward motion causing his hips to rise and dip in a sensual sway. When he found himself in the center he pivoted and sat back on his haunches, mindful of the back of his shoes digging into the soft flesh of his rear. His hands were fisted by his side. He looked at George expectantly. Another order was sure to be made…

George licked his lips and Alex’s erection bobbed. His expression shifted from waiting to desperate. His stocking dug into his flesh and he wanted it to be George’s hands. He wanted it to be George’s anything.

“Touch yourself.”

He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t anticipated immediate please. His face was creased with confusion. “What?”

George smiled soft and sweet. “I don’t need to explain it, do I?” At Alex’s lack of response, George’s expression shifted to something devilish. “I imagine you’d prefer a hands on demonstration.” Yes. That was exactly what he wanted, actually. “That’s not on the menu, sweetheart.”

Alex pouted. His lower lip stuck out just enough to make his dissatisfaction apparent.

“Put that lip away.”

“Or what? You’ll spank me?” His tone was cut short by the arousal that flared at the idea.

George smirked. “You should be so lucky.” Alex flushed and looked away, caught unaware by his own desire to be further tortured by the man. “Alexander. I won’t say it again.”

Alex looked back at him and stared before taking his flesh into on hand. He sighed at the pressure. His eyes closed and he let himself feel it. He let himself think about what it had been like to have a larger hand on him just moments ago. He stroked up and down once and moaned. He let his heels dig into his ass as he began to stroke himself steadily.

“Eyes open.”  
He opened them slowly. He looked at George. The man was stone. His posture was rigid and perfect. His mouth, generous and clever, was set. His face was blank. But his eyes… his eyes took Alex where he needed to be. He knew exactly how much George wanted him and that was enough to spur him on.

He had never imagined he would be giving Washington a front row seat to what he got up when he got home from pining after the man all day. Still, there he was moaning and finally pleasuring himself to something real. He was working himself over too well. He struggled to keep his eyes open. He hand moved swiftly over himself. He gripped his thigh with the other. He let out soft breaths and whines.

“Sir… please… fuck.” He hissed out on an upward stroke, his thumb catching the head.

“Easy, sweetheart. Slow down,” George said and Alex’s attention snapped to the man. He whined but slowed his strokes. His body screamed at him for staving off his release. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from telling him get on with it. He didn’t need to. George was divesting himself of his clothing before he could beg.

He nearly stopped his ministrations as he watched. His attention was rapt. George’s arms flexed inside his sleeves as he gripped the back of his shirt just behind his neck and pulled it over his head. Alex felt lightheaded. He stared at the man before him. He ached to touch. He hated waiting to feel the muscle that his eyes tracked diligently. 

George held his gaze as he kicked off his boots, somehow managing to leave his feet bare in the process. Alex watched as his hand moved to one row of buttons on the front panel that did nothing to conceal what Alex was really after. George took his time. Painstakingly letting his hands fumble with them. But Alex could tell his hands were steady. He knew he was still being teased.

“Who said you could stop?”

“Huh?” Alex said intelligibly.

“You really need to be taught how to follow orders.” George said.

Alex lipped his lips. That sounded like a promise. He’d gladly take lessons from the man. George left his trousers on, the flap hanging but not nearly enough for his liking. He only caught a heavenly trail that led to a shadow of a promise. George approached the bed and Alex sat straighter.

One clothed knee came to rest on the mattress. The added weight weight caused a shift and Alex struggled to find his balance. George raised a hand and gripped Alex’s chin. Their eyes met and Alex opened his mouth but all that came out was an unsteady breath.  
“So desperate,” George said softly. His thumb brushed over Alex’s bottom lip. “What do you want, Alexander?”

His brain screamed at him; Tell him to touch you, tell him to flip you over and fuck you into oblivion, ell him to take you in every way humanly possible. Tell him to do something! “You.”

George smiled his smile. “Soon, pet.”

Alex’s eyes fluttered shut as George claimed his mouth. The kiss was searing and overwhelming. He was carried towards the man by large hands on his face. He rose from his heels and leaned into the touch. His erection forgotten. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He wanted to touch but he hadn’t been given permission.

George pulled away with a soft press of his lips. He didn’t wait long before he bestowed more fleeting kisses on the younger man. Alex whined and George smiled into the sound. His hands were quick. He gripped Alex under his arms and threw him back.

He landed with a flop, his legs kicking out awkwardly. He couldn’t find the focus to be bothered by the unceremonious action. He looked up at the man kneeling on the bed beside him. Ever patient, he stared. Having had enough, Alex lifted the hand closest to the man and trailed a finger along his core. The muscles tightened and Alex smiled deviantly.

“How soon is soon?” he asked sweetly. As though his fingers weren’t working their way towards the edge of George’s pants.

“That depends on how good you plan on being.” George said, letting him play.

Alex looked at him through his lashes. He arched his back to shift his hips down the bed. “What does being bad get me?”

“A very long night.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “What does being good get me?”

George fixed him with a look and a smirk. “A very long night.”

Alex gripped the front of his trousers and tugged. Hard. George fell forward, catching himself on his hands. His massive body caged Alex in. He shifted so that his legs mirrored his arms, bracketing the small body under him.

“You’ve been so good tonight,” George said before ducking down to kiss Alex’s jaw.

Alex sighed. His fist tightened in the fabric. “Is that what I’ve been?”  
“Absolutely perfect, pet.” Alex preened under the praise. George nipped the spot he had kissed. “You can last a little longer, can’t you?”

No. “Yes.” He turned his head to give George access to his neck.

“That’s my boy.” George lavished attention on the skin before him. His mouth was fierce causing Alex to grip at the bedspread with his free hand.

“I want to touch you,” he managed to say.

“Is that what you want?” A sharp swipe of the tongue up the column of a pale neck.

More than anything, Alex thought hopelessly. He simply nodded his head. George pulled back and steadied himself on one hand. He used the other to pry Alex’s fist from the red fabric and placed it on his chest. Alex stared at their hands before looking to George for approval. George’s eyes smiled and he went in for another glorious kiss.

Alex surrendered. He kept his mouth open and pressed back zealously. His hands wandered over hard flesh The blunt tips of his nails scratched at it. He ached to find a way to be closer. His hands fluttered to anywhere he could touch before settling on George’s neck and jaw. His body twinged at the way he held himself away from the mattress to press forward into the space George occupied.

George took pity on him and slid his legs down the bed. His weight settled over Alex like a blanket. He hummed happily into George’s mouth. George shifted and the drag over his erection drew out a licentious moan. It was caught of course. George ate it up. He shifted again and Alex whimpered. He pleaded.

George drew Alex’s hands away and pressed a warm kiss to each wrist before placing it above his head. “Keep them there.”

Drunk on fantasies of what was to come, he nodded emphatically.

“Now,” George said darkly. “Stay still.”

He stayed. He watched.

George worked his way down his body. His hands and mouth were always occupied, always playing. George was a musician, Alex his instrument. He drew sounds Alex had never known himself to make. Large hands palmed at his thighs as his mouth burned a patch down a heaving chest. Alex gripped the sheets above his head but he remained otherwise motionless.

George looked up at him as he moved. His gaze alone was enough to take Alex apart. When he kissed a hip bone, Alex had to look away. He couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He pressed his face into his arm and held his breath. A sharp sob echoed through the room when George, once a-fuckin-gain, denied him what he wanted.

Lips found the sensitive skin inside one of his shaking thighs. He twitched and nearly pulled George up to glare at him. He pressed his lips together tightly. George smirked into the skin and Alex almost smacked him.

Fucking sadist.

Dark hands moved. Alex felt them on either ankle and his legs were bent and raised. They slid up stocking smooth flesh and gripped the outside of his thighs. Lips turned to teeth. Alex let out a silent moan. George marked up his thighs aggressively. Alex couldn’t help it… really. One hand flew to George’s head. He barely touched him but the older man was fast and clever and very aware that Alex had disobeyed his orders.

“Honestly,” George said as he shook his head. His tone was full of false disbelief.

Alex shook his head. Fuck.

“Turn over.”

Alex tucked his chin in. “Why?”

George raised a brow. “Turn. Over.”

Alex hesitantly rolled over. Laying on his stomach, he felt George tap the back of his thigh. Getting the hint, he propped himself up so he was kneeling. He looked over his shoulder at George. He received a silent shake of the head and a point forward. He sighed. Looking at the fabric wasn’t nearly as exciting as looking at George.

“I know you can listen better than this, Alex.”

“I’m sorry.”

Warm hands gripped the sides of his ass and he rocked back into the touch.

“‘I’m sorry’, what?”

Alex tried to speak but George’s hands were incredibly distracting. The sensation of his flesh being kneaded had him shaking. He had still yet to be touched where he needed it most. He moaned at a particularly rough grope. He received a sharp slap on one cheek and his head jolted upward. His attention was back on reality. The tingle that remained on his flesh was exhilarating.

“Sir!” He cried out. “I’m sorry, sir.” He amended.

A hand soothed over the spot. “Good boy. There’s still the matter of you sneaking in to the party.” Oh. “Your display downstairs.” Yeah, okay. “Your smartmouth.” He couldn’t do anything about that. “Disobedience.” He had said sorry. “Making me wait.” Pot, meet kettle. “That’s five.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to be very quiet.” George pressed a kiss to the curve of his cheek. “Can you do that?”

He didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure that he could. The idea was tantalizing. He wanted to feel the burn again. It was like a crack of lightning. George was searing his touch into his skin. But he shook his head. He couldn’t keep quiet, he was sure of it. There was no chance of that.

“I’m going to begin.” George said, ignoring the rapid shaking of his head.

God help him. The first smack caused him to tense. He was silent. The second came quickly, causing him to bite his lip in an effort to obey another order. There was a short moment of reprieve before the third. He waited in anticipation. When another sharp crack of flesh on flesh echoed, he barely contained his moan. He shifted back towards the touch. George tutted at him.

“Patience.”

He didn’t want to be patient. He’d spent an eternity waiting. He eagerly sought out more contact. He wanted to feel the burn and the residual tingle. He wanted George to continue. More importantly, he wanted George to finish this.

The fourth smack was sharper than the others and George’s hand didn’t pull away immediately. Alex muffled a groan. George dug his fingers into the flesh under his palm and reminded him to stay quiet. He was trying. God, was he trying. He waited for George to draw back, for the final smack to arrive. His heart beat heavily in anticipation. He nearly looked back to see what was delaying him. His lips parted, the urge to speak to great to ignore.

A final smack was laid into his flesh. The groaned ‘fuck’ was raw and dragged out. His arms gave out from under him. He pressed his face into the sheets and felt the burn through his body. His body twitched. He felt the need in his body surge.

“I’d hardly call that silent, but for you I’d say it very close.”

“I’m very close,” he mumbled.

“Is that right?” George mused.

The leisure in his tone made Alex want to weep. He was about to snark back when he felt George fold over him, his large chest plastered against the damp skin of Alex’s back. He wasn’t aware of his own trembling until he had stability all around him. George pressed tender kisses to the side of his face as his soothing hands stroked over Alex’s flesh.

“I take back calling you impatient. You’ve done so well.”

Alex hummed his acknowledgement. He didn’t really have the words for what he was feeling anymore. He needed to come and he needed to come now. George pulled away and Alex whined.

“If you don’t- oh fuck!” his outburst was cut short by a warm stroke of a tongue over his perineum. George didn’t respond verbally as his mouth was otherwise occupied.

George took his time. He ate at Alexander like he was savoring a delicacy. It was almost too much to bear. Each stroke of the tongue was maddening. He was left with no choice but to stay put and moan helplessly as George prepared him. He was slick and shaking when George finally breached him. Alex groaned and clenched around him before remembering that he needed to relax.

George spread him slowly. By the time a finger entered, he was incoherent. He rocked back onto the intrusion greedily. He wanted everything he was being given and he was past the point of appearing to be in control of himself. George didn’t move. He let Alexander ride his hand, pushing his hips back into the contact.

He must have begun to beg because he received another finger and let George take over. He was scissored open and his moaning began to rise in volume. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he was being ridiculously loud. He also vaguely recalled there being a house full of people below them, perhaps even in the hall outside. He didn’t give a damn. What the hell was the point of a party if not to cover up the sound of the host debasing his assistant?

“Are you ready?”

Of course he was ready! He’d been ready since the first time he sat in front of George, desperate for a job and damned eager. He’d been ready since the first time George had leaned over his desk to go over papers, the first time he saw George scrub his face in frustration. He’d been ready since the first time he saw George lose it and start yelling at some poor undeserving intern. He’d been ready since he had been ordered to send said intern a gift basket in apology and schedule the kid a long weekend. He’d been ready since the first time George had smiled at him… that smile. His smile.

He was beyond ready and beyond words.

Fabric rustled. He focused enough to turn back and view George. It was down right illegal to look that good. Alex would sue him except he wasn’t sure he could win. He could be bribed though… George was already off to a fantastic start.

He only had a moment to admire every inch of dark skin exposed to him. He had barely laid eyes on the thick erection he had been salivating over since the night began before it was slick with lube that he hadn’t known existed. The head was pressed between his cheeks.

His breath hitched. George’s hand stroked his skin like gentle waves. He forced himself to relax; a task made more difficult by excitement. Tenderly, George eased into him. The stretch was bearable. He simply felt full. He panted into the air. His were closed and his chin was pressed firmly to his shoulder.

He felt every inch of George sink into him. Dark hands squeezed at either side of his ass. He felt the fingers dig in deeper with every moment. George was still restraining himself. His grip wasn’t to steady Alex but rather to steady himself. For just a moment, Alex wanted to win at something this evening.

Without a second thought, he shoved his hips back. George’s length slid into him quickly. The resounding hiss behind him was fucking glorious. If he weren’t so caught up in moaning, he might have smiled. On unsteady ground already, he reached a shaking hand behind him to lay over one of George’s. His forearm barely supported him.

“Fuck. Me.” It was gritted out.

“All you had to do was ask,” George said sweetly.

His following thrusts were anything but. He took Alexander hard. It was grueling and cruel and Alex loved every minute of it. He was driven face first into the pillow with force. His cries were barely muffled by fabric. His hands found solace wherever they could. George had finally let go of control and fucked him like he owned him; like Alexander was his exclusive sexual retreat.

It didn’t take very long for either one of them to find a brutal release. Alex’s only regret was that he came untouched. There was already a long list of things Alex wanted to try together. He made a mental note to bring them up when he could breathe again.

He lay naked and panting, slick and sticky. George was beside him. He looked over at the man, still taking in what had transpired. George shook his head and used a muscular arm to bring him closer. He tucked Alexander into his side and pressed a kiss into the damp hair on his head. Alex closed his eyes for a moment. His hand came up to rest on George’s stomach.

“Stop thinking for a minute.”

“I was just thinking about what it would be like to have you jerk me off.” he mumbled. His voice was raspy. He licked his lips. His throat was awfully dry.

“Jesus. Already?” George laughed, the motion vibrating through Alex’s palm.

“Well, not right this minute.” The idea of going again had appeal but he didn’t think any sane man would be beating down that door again so fast. “But soon.”

“You’ll be the death of me.” George ruffled a hand through his hair.

“I’ll write a touching eulogy for the funeral.”

George smiled into the top of his head. “I’m sure it’ll be lovely service.”

“Speaking of… we should probably head back and do damage control.”

They continued to lay in silence for a few moments longer before Alexander sighed and used the hand on George to prop himself up. He pressed a soft kiss into the corner of George’s mouth. He was pulled into something much more heated by a hand on the back of his head. When George finally let him go, he was panting again.

“So… about that hand job.”

George smiled and barked out a laugh. “Nice try. You’ve already got your treat this evening.”

“Happy Halloween to me, I guess.” He said climbing over the massive man to get off the bed. Unnecessary but thoroughly worth it.

“Indeed.” George perused his backside. “ Now, let’s go trick these people into thinking I gave you a firm tongue lashing.”

“Oh, but you did.”

He received a sharp smack on the ass and laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoooo-okay! There she be. This was supposed to be 10,000 words. It got away from me a lil' bit. Happy to have finished this holiday installment before November. HAPPY HALLOWEEN! STAY SPOOKY!
> 
> As it is November (HAPPY NANO!) Ya girl will be trying to focus on that. Wish me luck!
> 
> As always, all my love and gratitude!


End file.
